


That Blue Shirt

by Elle82



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dreams vs. Reality, Episode: s02e08 Su-zakana, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3817288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle82/pseuds/Elle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will fantasises about killing Hannibal. They discuss it in therapy and Will gets more than a little bothered about it. (Set during S2E08 Su-Zukana.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Blue Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt at the Hannibal Kink Meme: "You fantasize about killing me? - Yes". What Will "forgets" to mention is that his dreams are erotic.  Will is shocked and hates this but hides his secret well (but not from Lecter). Either words play or masturbation in front of Hannibal or both. 
> 
> Prompts are always welcome - comment below or hit me up on tumblr: puppyxtraining :)

“Don’t lie to me.”

 

Hannibal stifled his smile. His chin twitched with barely hidden amusement and he ran through his head what he would say next to the man sitting opposite. 

 

“Will you return the courtesy?”

 

Will swallowed. He didn’t have an answer, so Hannibal continued. 

 

“Why have you resumed your therapy?”

 

“Can’t just talk to any psychiatrist about whats kicking round my head.”

 

Will practically spat it out. It was resentful. He hated the fact that Hannibal knew him so well. Knew that he would return, knew that the pull towards Hannibal was too strong. 

 

“Do you fantastise about killing me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Tell me how you would do it.”

 

Will never broke eye contact but shifted in his seat. Hannibal’s eyes flicked downward towards Will’s crotch, the movement in his eyes almost imperceptible. 

 

“With my hands.”

 

Pride shone in Hannibal’s eyes. Another faint smile. 

 

“Then we haven’t moved past apologies and forgiveness, have we?”

 

Will returned the smile, wry in it’s bitterness.

 

“We’ve moved past a lot of things. I discovered a truth about myself when I tried to have you killed.”

 

“That doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I need to know if you’re going to try and kill me again Will.”

 

Will’s brow furrowed. He licked his lips.

 

“I don’t want to kill you anymore, Dr Lecter. Not now that I finally find you interesting.”

 

Hannibal allowed a little more of a smile this time. Dr Lecter. Sometimes Will called him by his first name. But he was being petulant today. 

 

Hannibal picked a piece of lint off his suit and regarded Will again. 

 

“Tell me more about these fantasies you have, Will. The one where you end my life.”

 

Will shifted in his seat, crossing his legs to mirror Hannibal’s body language. Even from across the room, Hannibal could make out the faint tang of arousal in the air. 

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

Hannibal shrugged. 

 

“Are they waking fantasties? Do you think about them during the day? Or is it something you indulge in, in your little house at night.”

 

Will narrowed his eyes at Hannibal. 

 

“You really want to know?”

 

“Yes. I think the discussion would be healthy.”

 

Will snorted. 

 

“Nothing about this is healthy.”

 

Hannibal uncrossed his legs and then crossed them the other way, knowing Will would soon mirror him. He was right, and when Will did, his hand very quickly dropped to adjust himself between his legs. 

 

Hannibal’s eyes lingered on Will’s crotch. 

 

“Do you dream about killing me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How? Tell me how. Close your eyes Will. Tell me about your latest dream.”

 

Will took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he closed his eyes slowly. He uncrossed his legs and placed his hands on his thighs. 

 

“I tricked you. I lured you to my house. I made you dinner.”

 

Hannibal smiled. Will’s left hand scratched a spot on his lower belly.

 

“What did you make?”

 

“Trout. Potatoes. The uh, the limits of my culinary expertise.”

 

“And then?”

 

“We drank. A lot.”

 

“You plied me?”

 

“I hold my whisky better than you.”

 

A pause. Will adjusted himself again, hand lingering longer at his crotch. 

 

“Then what happened?”

 

Another deep breath. 

 

“Suddenly, I’m on top of you. We’re on the couch, and I’m on top of you.”

 

Will’s cock twitched. He longs to open his eyes and walk out of Hannibal’s office, but he can feel himself starting to get hard. So he stays. 

 

“Do you enjoy the position?”

 

Will nods and bites his lip. He rubs his hand over his cock, through his trousers. 

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m looking down at you. My full weight is on you. You’re smiling up at me. Your hands are on my hips.”

 

Will slides his body forward ever so slightly, one hand gripping the arm of the chair, the other doing it’s best to relieve the aching in is groin. 

 

“So, in your dream, I’m enjoying the fact that you’re on top of me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Go on, Will.”

 

A pause. Will’s breathing has increased. He is blushing. 

 

“My hands are around your neck. You’re surprised but you buck up.”

 

Will mimics the movement with his own hips, thrusting into his hand. A very slight groan escapes his lips. 

 

“I’m aroused.”

 

“Yes. You are.”

 

“Do I fight you?”

 

Will shakes his head.

 

“No. You…you don’t. But my hands, they squeeze, they squeeze.”

 

Will’s hand squeezes his cock. He strokes the length through his trousers clumsily. 

 

“I can feel every bone, every bit of cartilage and every muscle in your neck. I’m crushing your windpipe. Your breathing makes a terrible sound.”

 

The speed increases on Will’s movements. A light sheen of sweat covers Will’s brow.

 

“You try to swallow. It’s instinctual. But you can’t. My hands won’t let you.”

 

Hannibal can feel the beginnings of arousal creep up on him. He had tamped it down earlier, and restraint is something he knows all too well. So he keeps fighting it. 

 

“When do I die, Will?”

 

“You die when I allow you to die. I…I have the power.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Will nods again, desperate. He must be close, Hannibal can smell the fluid leaking into Will’s underpants, slowly soaking through to his trousers. 

 

“Your…your last words. You choke them out.”

 

“What are they?”

 

Will is panting. He is now rubbing himself at a desperate pace.

 

“ ‘See. See.’”

 

Will comes forcefully into his trousers, shuddering slightly. He breathes heavily, not moving his hand away immediately, but caressing himself, as if he doesn’t want the moment to be over. 

 

Hannibal smiles once again. He watches Will, drowsy in his post-emission haze. He slowly opens his eyes and looks lazily at Hannibal. 

 

“Same time next week, then?”


End file.
